


Hearts at War

by StudioRat



Series: Winds of Twilight [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Banter, Epic Friendship, Intrigue, Legends, Mystery, Nonbinary Character, Other, Political Alliances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudioRat/pseuds/StudioRat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is quiet, for now. </p><p>The five nations have all sent representatives to Hyrule Castle for the Crown Princess' winter summit.  Even the Bandit King bows to the Red Lion Throne, and true peace has begun to seem possible.</p><p>But under the snows, the bloody history of greed and betrayal still coils around the foundations of Hyrule...</p><p>-</p><p>For Zelgan week 2016. <br/>Prompt: undeath</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Goron-made iron doors of the Royal archive are never allowed to squeak, but he knows the moment they enter, three floors below. Ganondorf lays an idle bet with himself in the margins of a treatise on - of all things - particular challenges to proper management of an estate in the lake countries. A book Lord Elapidan no doubt owns, and pays people to read for him. 

If they use the stairs - which he doubts - he will close the book at once, and try out his impression of the fawning Labrynnian prince. He wonders if they will blush, and endeavors not to think of kissing a fair and elegant hand as he turns the page. For the sake of the good joke, it might be permitted - that much, and no more. 

Yet it is by such crumbs that the scales are moved.

Zelda does not use the stairs.

He notes the failure of his bet in the margin - philosophically, as long shots have that name for a reason - and brackets a passage in the middle of the page. Rubbish, more so than usual, on the noble sensibilities of the laboring class, and the importance of never paying them so well as to erode their drive to work. Yet the profanity dancing on the tip of his pen slides ever farther from its target, meandering into nonsensical fragments about blasphemous sweat.

Zelda drops into the opposite chair with a deliberate lack of grace. The scroup of silk smooths over the heaviness of the thud, the many layers of court regalia settling slowly enough their perfume drifts on the air. Amber light from crystal stove shifts towards a soft rose - an extravagant expense, found nowhere in the castle but the library. 

Ganondorf returns his pen to the inkwell without looking up from the page.

Zelda scowls at him, but does not speak.

The waterclock drips its way towards another faint chime, far below. Ganondorf reclaims his pen for another rebuttal.

"I could have Herbert arrest you for vandalism."

"Indeed, you could try," he answers. He licks his finger to turn the next page, dripping ink on his dark trousers because he cannot be bothered to set aside the pen.

Zelda sinks lower in the chair, as if the act will make the sulk more satisfying. "You are not a sage, but as King you must have some spirit powers or whatever."

"Or whatever," he concedes, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He pretends valiantly that he is still reading, scrawling an illegible petition to his gods as the ink runs dry.

"I need to know what manner of spirits your powers command. Otherlings? The dead? Or merely the undead?"

Ganondorf collects a bright orange ribbon from beside the inkwell, and folds the volume closed around it. Only then does he lift his eyes.

Zelda scowls. "You do everything my father asks of you."

"I-" he begins, though he forgets his objection when Zelda pushes out of the chair to stand over him.

"I heard your slippery twist of the oath five years ago. Your technicality."

"I keep my word," he says.

"Did you kill the composer brothers six years ago?"

"More to the point," he says, turning the book over in his enormous hands. "Do you believe I did?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Bandit King. By your oath I, crown princess and sole heir to the throne of Hyrule, _to the interests of which you vowed eternal service,_ command you to answer truthfully."

"I should be interested to hear my motive," he says, smothering the tangled emotions which rise for that golden voice. "Where is your shadow, Princess?"

"Not here," Zelda says, the words clipped and angry. "Impa is preventing An Incident in the Goron province. Courtiers. Hot springs. Scandalous rumors. A clumsy map."

Ganondorf smiles. "Not my fault."

Zelda snorts, turning, kicking skirts and train out of the way. "Can you or can you not summon and speak with the souls of the dead?"

"I don't work for free," he says, leaning back in his chair until the wood screams its protest.

Zelda stalks across the rug. "You'll enjoy it. South bridge, twilight."

"It's snowing," he says.

"Wear a hat," Zelda retorts, throwing sparks of white light to the ground.

"No," he says to the empty room.


	2. Chapter 2

He leans against the frigid stone of the Princess' tower, waiting long enough the snow makes little drifts around his boots on the ledge. Twilight is spreading her cloak over the rolling country beyond the castle walls, and the snow draping every peaked roof below reflects her glory.

Sheik is still tying their white scarf when they step out onto the high balcony. They latch the fretwork-bound glass doors behind them, and the heavy oak after that. 

Ganondorf waits, arms crossed, wagering with himself whether they will be surprised to see him. He loses this bet also.

"You look ridiculous," they say.

"It's warm," he says, resisting the urge to straighten the wide brim of his black felt hat. Privately, he thinks it looks fetching with its wide gold ribbon and curled roc feathers trailing off one side. 

Sheik hops lightly onto the balcony rail, putting their red eyes level with his. "Too lazy for a winter ride, Vain King?"

Ganondorf shrugs. "You did say twilight. I assumed you were expecting a shortcut."

Sheik paces along the ledge to meet him, fearless. They hand him a mask. "The Royal Graveyard above Kakariko."

He nods, and offers his hand in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Neither of them expects a race when they arrive. They crash into each other as they run, sliding on icy stone. They try different paths, and they try running the same one together. More than once, the poes drop hidden doors between them or open oubliettes beneath them. The hours drain their magic and their will, but they speak only of the labyrinth and the best way to thread it. 

On the ninth attempt, Ganondorf drops to one knee before the enchanted gate-stone, trying to still the hammering of his heart. Sheik is magnificent - swift and clever and fiercely determined. If he withdraws, they will surely be able to reach the composers' graves alone. Nor do they truly need his magic to speak to either of the brothers. The inscriptions on the first gate to the royal catacombs make clear the occupants are bound eternally to the service of Hyrule.

By seven different kinds of magic. 

Sheik lays their hand on his shoulder. "We'll make it this time."

"I have never," he confesses without meeting their eye, " _ever_ won a foot race. Or any other test of speed which cannot be done by magic or shortening the path."

Sheik crouches beside him, pulling the mask away from his face. Their words are soft, but they echo even so. "You can't be good at everything, Desert King."

"You are," he says with a shrug. No one believes his mask of indifference.

Sheik tucks their hand under his jaw, forcing him to meet their eyes. "Don't be a smartass. Come on, ten is my lucky number."


	4. Chapter 4

The last race is the easiest. Without any magic left for themselves, somehow the paths seem bright and clear, every hairpin turn lit with red warning lanterns well ahead. The doors and drops and traps seem sluggish and wholly predictable. 

Ganondorf doesn't realize the race is over until he trips over them. Without thought, he turns the fall into a roll, gathering his best friend in his arms before they can lose their balance. He lays on his back on the cold stone, laughing in spite of the pain.

Sheik sprawls in boneless exhaustion across his chest, and they listen to the crowd of lesser poes murmuring about the excellent race, and who gave their guests the best challenge. The greater ones sulk over their graves, nothing visible but their lanterns. He hands them his dagger, whispering into their long pale ear the secret to using it on ghosts.

Sheik grumbles, rolls to their feet, and turns as if to retrace their steps into the labyrinth. The poes move as soon as their back is turned, stretching their lanterns out to burn away their breath.

Sheik waits until the last possible moment to move. Ganondorf smiles - they have become a formidable warrior, swift and sure. They catch both in the same whirling strike, and the poes sink to the ground, dropping their lanterns in a curl of purple ether.

"You killed me-!"  
"I'm dead AGAIN?"  
"Unbelievable!"

Sheik frowns at the wailing ghosts. "You've been dead these seven years."

"Oh, what? Are you not one of Ganondorf's men?"  
"You… Somehow you remind me of Princess Zelda."

Ganondorf ignores the glare directed at him, pulling himself upright. He collects his fallen hat, brushing the dust from the fine black felt.

Sheik tucks the enchanted dagger in their belt. A gesture and a spark - they draw from nowhere eight needle-sharp darts, tucked between their fingers. 

"Because of our role as ghosts, you must understand, we had to do that."  
"We're sorry, but we must protect the royal family. We are bound to service now as much as we ever were in life."  
"You're lucky to catch us."  
"We aren't helpless you know."  
"He made sure of that."

They stand between Ganondorf and the only exit from the tomb, and their narrowed eyes leave no doubt of their readiness to strike. 

Ganondorf resettles his hat in place, smoothing the bright feathers.

"I come from the royal family," says Sheik. "By your oath I command you-"

The poes laugh.

"It's not just an oath," says Ganondorf. "Poes are incapable of subtlety."

"Silence, Demon King."

Ganondorf leans against one of the stone sarcophagi, crossing his arms. "Did you or did you not bring me here for my knowledge of the dark arts?"

Sheik nods to the poes. "You were both more than simple court musicians - but your research-"

"Was interrupted!"  
"We would have been famous!"  
"Although we could never solve the mysteries of the Triforce, we were nearly finished with our study of controlling time with the tones of ocarinas-"  
"Our names would be part of Hyrule's history if we could complete our research."  
"Ah - I mean - we did complete it - yes! Only that hateful Ganondorf tried to steal our results. We could never let him reap the fruits of our research."  
"We kept our work extremely secret until we could complete it."  
"We didn't even share our research with each other - to tell the truth we were each studying a different song."

"But he found out," says Sheik. "How?"

"Your family doesn't have the only ocarina of sacred bluestone," says Ganondorf. He lays a wager with himself - not whether he will die, but when. He considers asking if they ever met the half-mad Kokiri courier who made their correspondence possible, before the young princess established the royal post linking every major village across Hyrule. "It is only reasonable to ask scholars of music about the magical potential of a musical instrument. Such as an ocarina. Or a harp."

"It was a secret, but he found us out."  
"We were going to run away - but the shadow sage said he would find us-"  
"We burned everything, but she said he could steal the notes from our heads."  
"That's why we died - to protect the secret."  
"But if you're sent by the Royal family, we can tell you."  
"We found a song that summons the sun - and another to summon the moon. But we've never heard them complete!"  
"We inscribed them on our tombstones for the sage of time. He'll play for us."

Sheik frowns. "Where anyone can read it. You aren't very good at secrets. Your murderer is _right there._ Listening."

The poes laugh.  
"Murder?"  
"You read too many novels!"  
"Only the royal family can come here."  
"Or their loyal servants."  
"It's the rules."

Sheik flicks a glance at Ganondorf. "But you just said he killed you to get to your notes -"

"He didn't get them."  
"We burned everything."  
"We made sure he couldn't steal the notes from our heads."  
"He cursed us too late!"  
"You should hear him swear!"  
"A virtuoso of the profane."  
"His magic is almost a match for the hereditary powers of the royal family."  
"Both a thief and a witch and a vanquished King - the stuff of opera."  
"If only we could still compose-!"

Sheik lowers their hands, letting the darts dangle from their fingers. "My father had you buried in our crypt. Under your favorite poems. In honor of your service, he said."

The poes laugh.  
"Honor?"  
"Without a single instrument?"  
"Under the missions we failed to complete?"  
"Thrice bound in everlasting discord?

"Undeath doesn't allow its thralls such refinements as subtlety or compassion," says Ganondorf as Sheik exclaims in horror. "Ask who gave them the blades they died on."

"You knew the truth all along - you never even warned me. I thought you were my friend." Sheik raises their hand again, closing half the distance dividing them.

"Yet you accuse me of murder on the thinnest of shadows."

Sheik makes a rude noise, flashing the darts. "You're no innocent. I know you've killed people."

"There is as much blood on your hands as on mine," he says with a bitter smile. "Only - I _accept_ that to rule is to bear responsibility for every life and every death, every act of virtue or vice which is done in my name or assigned to it. Forever."

"Blood and greed," say the poes.

"She is the only mother I've ever known," says Sheik, and their hand wavers.

Ganondorf smirks. "Convenient, isn't it?"

"Why didn't you _tell me_?"

"Kill me and find out," he says, opening his arms. He tries not to care which side of him will win this wager.

The darts vanish with a trailing glitter of white light. Sheik drifts toward him as one half-asleep, murmuring: "More than an oath, you said. Thrice bound-"

He wraps his arms lightly around them. He tries not to think about their tears, and even less of kissing them.

"Why," they said, hammering a fist against his chest. "Why bow to fate _now?_ What of your vow to reshape the world, War King?"

"I keep my word," says Ganondorf, bowing to place a chaste kiss on the crown of their head. "Even - perhaps especially - the wicked ones."

 

 

  
**\- o - O - o -**  
__

_**Fin.  
**_  



End file.
